Marathon Carbonara
Yesterday was my favorite Sunday of the year, the New York City Marathon. The event turns the five boroughs inside-out (forget about driving), with over 2 million spectators cheering on 40,000 runners.
The marathon doesn’t suffer from the obvious consumerism of the Thanksgiving parade; this event feels like the city itself; difficult, sweaty, and leaves you panting, but encourages you just as you’re about to give up, and helps you over the finish line. It’s a tangible manifestation of love and support, self-imposed challenges and successfully rising to that challenge.
I ran it in 2005 and loved every minute of it (though the training, not so much). I make it a point to scream my head off in support of the runners every year. For those who couldn’t make it, or who want to relive it, join me for:
The Six Faces of the NYC Marathon
Face 1: The anticipation of the runners. The faithful are out before the race, coffee and pom poms in hand. They are largely friends and loved ones of the runners, with their homemade posters of encouragement.
This group gets me going – it means it’s officially marathon Sunday, and I’m getting chills for the excitement of the day. I’m emotionally anticipatory and the supporters bring a few tears, because they’re so sincere in their celebration and love of their friends.
Face 2: Achilles runners. Achilles runners are other-abled; this running club supports blind runners, wheelchair runners, those with MS. These are the most motivating runners.
I saw a few men in their arm-powered cycles with a flag that said “new veteran”, next to a US flag. These men who looked like they hadn’t been old enough to serve just five years ago had returned home without the appendage they left with. I found myself with more tears; it’s hard not to feel humbled in the face of such unapologetic earnest determination.
Face 3: The top runners, moving faster than I can sprint for 26.2 miles. No tears, just awe.
Face 4: The masses. When I ran the marathon, a friend told to put my name on my shirt. “You have no idea how much you need to hear that,” he counseled.
He was right. This marathon thing is hard, especially if you’re running for 4 hours, like me. I go out there and scream every last name I can read at the top of my lungs; if they didn’t need it, they wouldn’t have taped their names to their shirt.
The runners always seem surprised to hear their name; returning my yelp with a thumbs up, mouthing the words ‘thank you’, or giving me a warm smile.
The tears come, sure enough, from the other words I read on these shirts: “for Dad”, “for Aunt Kate”, “for my son”. Sometimes there is a picture (of an 8-year-old), sometimes there is a birth and death date. Either way, you know that when these folks are taking the most difficult strides, they are pulling their strength from someone who isn’t there that day.
Face 5: The crowd thins out. Now the runners are 70 year old women in decorated bras, 80 year old men with odd, labored gates or small groups of Japanese women, running slowly and supportively in a group with enormous smiles. The sweep truck comes (akin to the Santa float in the Macy’s parade), but the stragglers keep coming. These folks will be run/walking 8-hour marathons and need the support.
At this point, I strolled over to the dance party in Ft. Greene Brooklyn, with a DJ who welcomed every marathon straggler like he was a dearly loved sibling who’d just been released from a “you-got-the-wrong-guy” prison stint 10 years. Like those welcome home parties you’d see on old episodes of the Sopranos.
With the proper words of recognition and shouts of the crowd, suddenly these gasping folks were hopping and dancing with the kind of smiles you usually see on a blissed-out toddler.
Face 6: It’s over, baby. See you next year. The winners have already crossed the finish line and the only thing left to do is take that face in the mirror to the gym for a no-holds-barred work out.
Spaghetti Carbonara
Serves 4 to 6
Carbonara has all the things that we want, but deny ourselves, like bacon, whole eggs and cheese. To heck with it; life’s too short for all that denial.
Why are we always so stressed out about bacon consumption, anyway? I decided to look into this, and flipped over my pack-of-pork to see how many calories are in a strip of bacon. I was thinking 80 calories, maybe 110? '
Turns out, a piece of cooked bacon has 30 calories. It surprised me too. I can burn that off on a 15-minute dog walk. Do some sit ups and eat your bacon; your eyes, nose and ears will thank you.
3/4 pound spaghetti or bucatini
¾ pound sliced bacon, chopped
4 large eggs
1 ½ cups pecorino romano, grated
kosher salt and coarse black pepper
¾ cup roughly chopped parsley, or 1 cup frozen peas (optional)
1. In a pasta pot, bring salted water to a boil and cook spaghetti according to package directions for al dente. Add frozen peas (if using) for the last minute of cooking.
2. In a large, wide pot (large enough to fit the pasta), cook the bacon over medium heat until crispy, about 6 to 8 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and reserve; pour out excess bacon fat and discard. Remove pan from heat, and let cool slightly.
3. Add eggs to pot and whisk together; add cheese. Add hot pasta and peas or parsley (if using), and toss with tongs until pasta is coated with sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
The marathon doesn’t suffer from the obvious consumerism of the Thanksgiving parade; this event feels like the city itself; difficult, sweaty, and leaves you panting, but encourages you just as you’re about to give up, and helps you over the finish line. It’s a tangible manifestation of love and support, self-imposed challenges and successfully rising to that challenge.
I ran it in 2005 and loved every minute of it (though the training, not so much). I make it a point to scream my head off in support of the runners every year. For those who couldn’t make it, or who want to relive it, join me for:
The Six Faces of the NYC Marathon
Face 1: The anticipation of the runners. The faithful are out before the race, coffee and pom poms in hand. They are largely friends and loved ones of the runners, with their homemade posters of encouragement.
This group gets me going – it means it’s officially marathon Sunday, and I’m getting chills for the excitement of the day. I’m emotionally anticipatory and the supporters bring a few tears, because they’re so sincere in their celebration and love of their friends.
Face 2: Achilles runners. Achilles runners are other-abled; this running club supports blind runners, wheelchair runners, those with MS. These are the most motivating runners.
I saw a few men in their arm-powered cycles with a flag that said “new veteran”, next to a US flag. These men who looked like they hadn’t been old enough to serve just five years ago had returned home without the appendage they left with. I found myself with more tears; it’s hard not to feel humbled in the face of such unapologetic earnest determination.
Face 3: The top runners, moving faster than I can sprint for 26.2 miles. No tears, just awe.
Face 4: The masses. When I ran the marathon, a friend told to put my name on my shirt. “You have no idea how much you need to hear that,” he counseled.
He was right. This marathon thing is hard, especially if you’re running for 4 hours, like me. I go out there and scream every last name I can read at the top of my lungs; if they didn’t need it, they wouldn’t have taped their names to their shirt.
The runners always seem surprised to hear their name; returning my yelp with a thumbs up, mouthing the words ‘thank you’, or giving me a warm smile.
The tears come, sure enough, from the other words I read on these shirts: “for Dad”, “for Aunt Kate”, “for my son”. Sometimes there is a picture (of an 8-year-old), sometimes there is a birth and death date. Either way, you know that when these folks are taking the most difficult strides, they are pulling their strength from someone who isn’t there that day.
Face 5: The crowd thins out. Now the runners are 70 year old women in decorated bras, 80 year old men with odd, labored gates or small groups of Japanese women, running slowly and supportively in a group with enormous smiles. The sweep truck comes (akin to the Santa float in the Macy’s parade), but the stragglers keep coming. These folks will be run/walking 8-hour marathons and need the support.
At this point, I strolled over to the dance party in Ft. Greene Brooklyn, with a DJ who welcomed every marathon straggler like he was a dearly loved sibling who’d just been released from a “you-got-the-wrong-guy” prison stint 10 years. Like those welcome home parties you’d see on old episodes of the Sopranos.
With the proper words of recognition and shouts of the crowd, suddenly these gasping folks were hopping and dancing with the kind of smiles you usually see on a blissed-out toddler.
Face 6: It’s over, baby. See you next year. The winners have already crossed the finish line and the only thing left to do is take that face in the mirror to the gym for a no-holds-barred work out.
Spaghetti Carbonara
Serves 4 to 6
Carbonara has all the things that we want, but deny ourselves, like bacon, whole eggs and cheese. To heck with it; life’s too short for all that denial.
Why are we always so stressed out about bacon consumption, anyway? I decided to look into this, and flipped over my pack-of-pork to see how many calories are in a strip of bacon. I was thinking 80 calories, maybe 110? '
Turns out, a piece of cooked bacon has 30 calories. It surprised me too. I can burn that off on a 15-minute dog walk. Do some sit ups and eat your bacon; your eyes, nose and ears will thank you.
3/4 pound spaghetti or bucatini
¾ pound sliced bacon, chopped
4 large eggs
1 ½ cups pecorino romano, grated
kosher salt and coarse black pepper
¾ cup roughly chopped parsley, or 1 cup frozen peas (optional)
1. In a pasta pot, bring salted water to a boil and cook spaghetti according to package directions for al dente. Add frozen peas (if using) for the last minute of cooking.
2. In a large, wide pot (large enough to fit the pasta), cook the bacon over medium heat until crispy, about 6 to 8 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and reserve; pour out excess bacon fat and discard. Remove pan from heat, and let cool slightly.
3. Add eggs to pot and whisk together; add cheese. Add hot pasta and peas or parsley (if using), and toss with tongs until pasta is coated with sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 8:51 AM
2 Comments:
cooked bacon - only 30 calories per slice? That's like 3 lifesavers!
The bacon is a no-brainer 'snack' choice, then.
What defines carbonara?....I've recently heard of other carbonara recipes.....clam carbonara, etc...Your recipe sounds wonderful.
I'll try it.
YKW
Post a Comment
<< Home